Why I hate going to the dentist's

I think one of the things anyone with even a smidgen of common sense would know would be that it is probably not a sterling idea to go see your dentist when you're ever so slightly hungover (and having had only five hours of sleep the night before). You kind of realise it's a really bad idea when he starts drilling, you want to gag, and you start to wonder if that nifty suction tube thing they use to suck up your saliva works for.. erm, more viscous stuff. OR what he would do if you threw up all over his nice white gown.

This reminds me of the time when Bernard, Nat and I went sky-diving in New Zealand, and it was the three of us, plus this Brit guy (if I recall rightly). He was looking slightly pale and unwell and told us that he was nursing a bit of a hangover from the night before (dude, you don't go out and get pissed the night before you SKYDIVE. But then maybe you shouldn't go out and drink the night before you have a 10am dental appointment either. Meh.) So anyways, he jumped off the plane (strapped to the instructor guy - we all did tandem), followed by the three of us. But when all three of us had landed safely he was nowhere to be seen. After a few minutes, we looked up and saw him drifting down slowly on the parachute, brown paper bag in hand. Turns out he'd started throwing up mid-freefall and his vomit must have shot straight upwards (at 200km/hr!!) into... the face of the poor instructor directly above him, and so he cut short his freefall time (we had abt 45 secs of that before the parachute was opened) and opened the parachute and they took a much longer time drifting down to the ground than the three of us did. I remember how hard we laughed at the poor instructor later.. I wonder why he had a paper bag at the ready. Maybe this kind of scary vomit projectile stuff happens more often than we think! (a la The Exorcist)

Anyway, to continue my dentist story. So I'm lying there, and suddenly he goes, "What happened to your neck? Rashes?"

Huh? Oh. I shook my head.

Sigh. I should learn (sometime soon, hopefully) that Mingyih is 14 and a bazillion times stronger than me now, and also, that I'm lousy and generally lose skin and get bruised very easily. So I had a playful tussle with him yesterday and he scratched me and I ended up with a number of reddish marks on my neck which Mingkun insisted looked totally like hickies, not that I would know, of course.

"Ok, all done, I'll do your jaw x-ray now. You're not married right?"
"No."

At this point he looks at me intently.
He happens to be an elder at my church, by the way, which is how I got to know about his clinic in the first place.
Long pause.

"Err. Pregnant?"
"No."

WIN.
Why do bad things always happen to me??

Oh and for anyone who cares and hasn't heard from giddy-happy me, Valentine's was beautiful :)
Maybe bad things don't always happen to me, after all *insert suitably ditsy giggles*.

Yes, things are very, very good.